I woke again to the bright midday sun, but the environment felt entirely unfamiliar. Dense trees surrounded me, and though the sky was clear, a biting chill swept through, carrying with it the howl of spectral winds that jolted me awake.
"A wilderness?" I muttered, scrambling to my feet. My eyes darted over the landscape—small earthen mounds rose and fell like waves amid the pine trees. These weren't natural graves; they were arranged in neat rows, like furrows in a field. A classic evil-dispelling formation. Too many restless spirits here had required the trees to be planted in such a pattern, to soothe the land's malevolence and prevent violent ghosts from emerging.
What was going on?
The memory of last night's chaos flooded back—falling into the Inn of the Yin, the yin officers, the paper figures… How had I ended up here, in a graveyard?
A yellow talisman lay at my feet—the same one the Ferryman had slapped onto my forehead. It wasn't a dream.
But with my limited knowledge, I couldn't explain any of this.
"Whatever," I sighed, brushing my hair. A sudden shock ran through me as I touched my face.
Hair. Warm skin. Breath.
I was human again.
The Ferryman's words from last night echoed: "This isn't over." Since the Seven-Compartment Tomb, strange things had followed—this must be part of a larger storm.
I needed to go home. My father was my only hope.
I wandered the graveyard's edge, where a brick wall enclosed the area like a cemetery. Glass shards jutted from the wall—impossible to climb without cutting myself. From the top, I spotted a stretch of barren land beyond, lined with five ghost trees at the base.
A chill crept up my spine. Had I never left the Inn of the Yin? Was this "inn" a graveyard by day and a hotel by night?
Legends said such places followed a feng shui "bagua" layout, with two gates: one leading to an "yang house" (for the living, south-facing) and one to a "yin house" (for the dead, north-facing). Wrong turn, and you courted disaster.
I squinted southward and soon spotted an old brick house, weathered and dilapidated.
From afar, I saw the Ferryman perched on a small stool outside, talking to two people. One I recognized—Zhang Xinya. The other was a stranger, dressed in ancient robes, long hair cascading down, face obscured by distance.
"What's she doing here?" I wondered. Last night, she'd attacked me with such precision—almost as if she knew what I was. And when I'd turned into a paper figure, only she'd been able to see me.
A white-collar worker? How?
The Ferryman suddenly raised his voice, shouting toward me: "Hey, kid! Stop gaping. Come meet the guests—someone here wants to chop you up!"
I didn't need the warning. The stranger had already noticed me, his gaze slicing through the distance like a blade.
He was… stunning.
Pale skin, inky eyes, long black hair swept back. Sharp brows, an air of ancient nobility. Even Zhang Xinya, usually striking, paled beside him. He stared silently, and I felt my legs tremble, instinctively edging toward the Ferryman as if he were a safer bet.
"Wei Jizhe?" Zhang Xinya broke the silence, her voice tinged with shock. "What are you doing here?"
I laughed bitterly. Same question.
"Interesting," the Ferryman sneered, gesturing to the stranger. "Your 'niece' still doesn't get it, huh?"
The stranger said nothing, continuing to study me. Zhang Xinya, unafraid, snapped: "Shut up, old man. What's your problem?"
The Ferryman clucked, shoving me forward. "Aren't you the one who wanted to kill the 'ghost' that scared you last night? Here he is. Go on, chop him!"
"Bullshit!" Zhang Xinya snapped. "He's my friend—how's he a ghost?!"
She cut off as the stranger placed a hand on her arm, speaking softly: "It's him. Half-ghost, half-living."
Zhang Xinya and I locked eyes, both lost.
"I'll take him," the stranger said, finally looking away from me. His tone held a quiet authority. "He's useful."
"No," the Ferryman protested, shaking his head. "He's a half-baked funerary official, but his family has connections. I've invested in him—I'm not letting you take him till I collect my due."
The stranger's gaze hardened. "Care to settle this with a fight?"
The Ferryman's eyes narrowed, his hunched frame stiffening. For a moment, the frail old man radiated a terrifying aura, making me feel small. He stared at the stranger for a long beat, then croaked: "You're mocking me?"
The stranger gave a barely perceptible nod.
The Ferryman's face flushed purple, veins bulging. He looked ready to explode, but after a tense standoff, he deflated. "Must you make this ugly?"
"The stakes are too high," the stranger said simply. He glanced at Zhang Xinya, his expression softening. "She's involved too. The root's in this kid."
"You owe me!" the Ferryman roared. "This is my bottom line—if not, we fight!"
The stranger finally nodded. I saw the Ferryman slump, clearly relieved.
My view of him shifted. This man… he had power.
"Come with me," the stranger said. "I'll keep you alive."
I hesitated, but doubtlessly, this was my best shot. I followed him, stealing a glance back at the Ferryman. His eyes burned like a predator's, teeth bared in a threat.
"Debts must be repaid," he mouthed. "He can save you now… but not forever. I'll collect later."
A chill ran down my spine. This old man wasn't done with me. Not by a long shot.
…